


The Statistical Probability of Falling In Love

by xiujaemin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Female Byun Baekhyun, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, nerd talks, too many sex jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:24:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiujaemin/pseuds/xiujaemin
Summary: Kyungsoo believes that life follows a certain line of code: an array of numbers pre-arranged to keep things in order, a group of equations to settle things on the right track. But Baekhyun proves him otherwise, asking him a question that couldn’t be solved by any equation he knew.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a true story. this was written for kath and to save myself from missing watching dream high too much

_73321081051071013212111111746_

Chanyeol grabs the piece of paper from Minseok’s hands. Minseok doesn’t mind the suddenintrusion of long limbs from his view, being fully-equipped with the knowledge that Park Chanyeol is as barbaric as a Viking could ever be. He’s just thankful that he didn’t get hit in the head in the process. “What the hell is this?”

The latter shrugs. “You tell me,” _You’re the genius_ , Minseok almost adds just to spite Chanyeol and all of his six feet of glory.“I just found it here, on top of my desk.”

Chanyeol turns the paper upside down and sideways, eyes squinting as he tries to make out what the note says, but he didn’t seem to get what it meant. He flips the note, hoping to find any clue there as to what the paper was or for whom it was for, and sure enough, a string of numbers was also written at the back.

_20139204_

“2013… Wait, isn’t this a student number at the back?” Minseok says, standing on his tiptoes and leaning in to get a better look of the numbers. Chanyeol simply shrugs in reply, being the academic prodigy that he is.“Wait, this is Baekhyun’s student number!” he squeals with pure delight at the prospect of having a new person to tease his cousin with.

“Baekhyunnie, come here! We’ve got something for you.”Chanyeol’s eyes shine with newly-earned vigor from the prospect of having a new festival involving the torments of Baekhyun.

Baekhyun takes off the earphones jammed in her ears (whose other end was safely tucked in her skirt pocket and wasn’t connected to anything, anyway. She just didn’t like people bothering her so she always pretended to be listening to music) and gave them her usual deadpanned look. “What is it this time?”

Chanyeol comes over, not being able to hold in his excitement and bursting into a fit of hysterical giggles as he holds out the note to her with Minseok tottering behind him. Minseok almost quotes a line from Mean Girls that he couldn’t remember well, but probably goes along the lines of “You’re too gay to function right now, come back tomorrow instead” or something. “Minseok found this on his seat. It has your student number written on it. Must be from a secret admirer.” He answers Baekhyun with a teasing tone, eyebrows waggling suggestively.

Baekhyun holds out her hand, ready to receive the canary-colored piece of paper that seemed to be ripped off from a memo pad. “Hand it over,” she says with her usual bored look, but Minseok notices a glint in her eyes that he rarely sees. He takes it as excitement, probably because Baekhyun is thrilled at the prospect of having an overwrought secret admirer that is head over heels in love with her, ready to build her an altar greater than the pyramids of Giza at whim, but she just doesn’t want to show it in case it ruins her diva image.Or probably because the light is just playing tricks on Minseok’s eyes.

Baekhyun looks a tad bit too disappointed for her own good when she reads the note (and she’s not even supposed to give a flying fuck because hello, DIVA). She clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth as her hopes of prancing around in the meadows with sun’s rays kissing her skin as a tall and inhumanely gorgeous guy comes along riding a white horse and holds out his hand for her to take. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Chanyeol sits down on the armrest of the chair beside Baekhyun, balancing with the heels of his shoes as he is being threatened to be toppled over by his weight. “Maybe it’s a code for something?” he suggests.

Baekhyun gives Chanyeol a _well-duh-isn’t-it-obvious-how-bright-can-you-get_ look, and Chanyeol sort of regrets even opening his mouth. Sort of. But not really because Chanyeol is dumb like that. “But how would I even decode this? I’m not a robot.”

Minseok, who has been silent for some time now while Chanyeol and Baekhyun kept bickering exclaims “I got it!” upon his moment of serendipity, making Chanyeol and Baekhyun almost jump up from their seats.

“You might not be a robot Baekhyun, but” he starts, voice edged with excitement. “I know someone who’s as good as one.”

√

“So tell me, why do I have to help her again?” Jongdae asks Minseok in the nicest way he could muster without breaking into a look of pain and betrayal. He hasn’t really been on good terms with Baekhyunever since high school (she always had that air of boastfulness surrounding her, wanting to stamp into everyone’s minds that she’s the best of the best, even though it was Jongdae who was continuously at the top of the class), but Baekhyun was Minseok’s cousin, so he didn’t have a choice but to at least stay civilized with her.

Jongdae swears that if Minseok just wasn’t his boyfriend, he would have poured boiling hot coffee over Baekhyun and called out all of the caffeine-hungry college students for them to devour on her a long time ago.

“BECAUSE her love life just might be on the line on this one.” Minseok covers the side of his mouth with a hand and whispers conspiratorially.

“I heard you. I’m just sitting across from you, you know. And no it’s not; it might even be a ransom note.” Baekhyun butts in, cheeks flaming at the thought of having someone confess to her in the most old-school way.

“Then I guess I should decode the note as soon as possible. The person responsible for making that might be nice enough to take her away to Timbuktu and never return again.” Jongdae says, making his voice loud enough to make her hear. She gives him a sidelong glance, and he nods in return as he mouths “I’m such a saint, I know”. This has always been the way they have treated each other, after all.

Minseok hands him the note, now crumpled from the numerous times that they have tried folding it up to try to see if the numbers would form some kind of pattern and instantly make sense. “Now let’s see…” he narrows his eyes into slits as he looks at the paper, lost in thought as the gears in his mind start to turn. Baekhyun tries not to gag at the googly-eyes Minseok makes at Jongdae. From what Baekhyun knows, this was what Minseok liked about Jongdae the most, aside from his cat-like smile and voice that oozes pheromones—his good-natured, serious side, always on the endeavor for knowledge.

“This is a decimal code.” He declares after a few seconds. “And you guys should definitely worry; it’s a confession of all sappy things the world has to offer,” Jongdae hands the note to Baekhyun.“Too bad it’s not a death note, though.” He whispers under his breath, and Minseok elbows him in the ribs for it.

Baekhyun’s eyes glow like newly-lit candles upon hearing that, ignoring the drips of sarcasm in Jongdae’s voice. “Really?” her voice squeaks in agitation, and she clears her throat, trying to return to her usual poker-faced expression. She couldn’t have anyone know that she was excited about this, let alone Jongdae. “Uhm, I mean… Really?” Yet her eyes betrayed her, as the couple that is sitting facing her could see the same flicker of elation in her eyes as they would usually see whenever she sang, the only time when they could see her truly in bliss.

“Yeah… As I said, it’s a decimal code.” He takes the note from Baekhyun’s dainty fingers and puts it on top of the glass table separating him and Minseok from Baekhyun. “When you separate these numbers,” he takes out a pen from his pants pocket (up until now, nobody knows why, but he always carries a pen with him) and separates the numbers using forward slashes. “And translate each into ASCII, you get a mixture of letters and symbols.”

Both of his companions gave frenzied nods, eager to find out what the code really means. “32 is equivalent to space.” He encircled the two 32s in the paper. “Which means that we have three words. 46 is period, so it’s obviously a sentence.” He shrugs. “And it’s in English too. I’m quite amazed. Well at least, your admirer knows how to observe proper grammar.”

Baekhyun punches him not-so lightly in the arm. “Cut to the chase kid.” She says, despite Jongdae being younger than her by a mere few months. He sighs in exasperation, not knowing when Baekhyun will stop being such an ungrateful brat. At least being classmates in high school helped him get used to her.

Jongdae writes down a letter under each number. Baekhyun’s eyes widens upon seeing what it was.

_73/32/108/105/107/101/32/121/111/117/46_

“I like you.”

√

Ever since he could remember, everything he did involve numbers: his time to accomplish a certain task is always limited; his age, always at an increase; the money coming in his father’s accounting firm fluctuating every 6 months. At the age of three, he was discovered to be a math genius and was home-schooled since then, with only the most erudite of scholars having the opportunity to teach him. At the age of 10, he started helping out in the firm. A year later, it had become one of the most successful firms in the country, with his father ending up to be one of the most famous business moguls in the whole of Korea. They moved from Apgujeong to the more high-rise district of Gangnam in a span of five months.

He was already eligible to head straight to college at the age of fifteen, but he declined, wanting to try leading a normal life and not wanting to deny himself any more of the normalcy that he’s always been craving to have. His parents agreed, but of course with the assurance that he’ll graduate at the top of his class.

That’s why when he was 18, he was sent to the finest university available in the country to take up Statistics since the jobs available for graduates of that course was one of the most-in demand and highest-paying at the moment. Money should always be welcomed, as his father told him. Even if they already had a lot of money, he still believed in his old principle that they should always keep on earning money, just to be sure.

The boy didn’t have any protests, despite the fact that he despised math even though he was more than good at it, because it was specifically the reason why he didn’t have much friends, as they have thought of him as an ego-centric douche bag from the kingdom of bullshit that only knows the runabouts of business and never real life.

He was a good kid. A good son would never disobey the wishes of his parents, no matter how much the thought of not being able to make decisions for himself displeases him.

And he couldn’t have regretted going to that school the slightest bit, because that was where he met _her._

 

 

 

“Kyungsoo-hyung, come over here! I’ve got some friends that I’d like you to meet.” Jongin, his best friend (actually, make that _only_ friend) from around the neighborhood and a dance major in the same school calls him from across the field where he stands under the shade of a tree, waiting for his ride home. The younger kid is urging him to go cross the street and come over to the school’s recreational park where he and his friends are.

Kyungsoo would have passed on with the opportunity, if it wasn’t for the pretty girl that was sitting cross-legged near the edge of a bench a few feet behind Jongin. She was the only girl there, and if an outsider takes a look at the scenario, it would seem as if the five boys are hitting on her, except that Kyungsoo knows that that could never be possible, given that the girl seems comfortable with being with those guys like they’re relatives of some sort. “They’re all probably just friends,” Kyungsoo thinks as he half-jogs toward them, pulling the straps of his backpack in place so they wouldn’t fall down.

“Glad you could come! I was already thinking that you were going to diss us back there,” Jongin claps his hand on Kyungsoo’s back, a little ways above the older one’s backpack, just between his shoulder blades. Jongin is smiling down at him with warmth enough to melt down a kingdom made out of pure ice, and he’s thankful that even though other people think of him as a freak, Jongin was there to help him out and give him company. After all, Jongin was –and maybe will be—the only thing he has that is close to a friend.

Jongin turns to face the people on the benches, raising his voice to get their attention. “Hey guys! This here’s my best friend, Do Kyungsoo,” he introduces. Kyungsoo swallows the lump in his throat, not used to being the center of attention. Sure, he’s a math genius and a graduate from a high school for gifted children in the field of science and mathematics at that, but he was home-schooled for the most of his educational life. And even back in his high school, everything was systematized; you gain honors, medals, trophies, merits even. But after a few celebratory greetings and congratulatory praises, everyone would leave you alone; it is a common sight for someone from that school to receive such an award, after all.

Here, however, he stands out like a sore thumb, the fact that he’s taken up on of the most difficult courses in the university contributing to the fact that there are only around twelve students enrolled in the course.

“He’s majoring in Statistics and is at the top of his class, so if you need any help in math or physics-related assignments, you could go and ask him for help!” Jongin jokes and Kyungsoo manages a forced smile. How dare Jongin offer him up for a tutorial.

The girl he had been eyeing turns her full attention to him, eyes filled with condescension. Despite the show of egotism, his eyes are still glued to her and the pretty little smile on her face. “So tell me then, what is the statistical probability of falling in love?” He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. He doesn’t know. Silence. That was a question he didn’t have an answer for.

Which was kinda weird, since his whole life revolved around numbers; around careful calculations and foreseen errors. Numbers never lie, and they rarely make mistakes. But why can’t he think of an answer?

“Nice try Baekhyun, but I don’t think people would want to talk about your nonexistent love life right now.” A guy that was just around Kyungsoo’s height sporting black-rimmed eyeglasses sitting next to a slightly shorter guy that has strawberry-blonde hair (and serves as a great reminder of the how cool chipmunks would look like if they had a different fur color) speaks up, breaking the silence. The shorter guy smothers his smile with his hands, but not before Kyungsoo could see small teeth and pink gums. Kyungsoo thinks he looks like a cross between a squirrel and a bunny. Or maybe a hamster? He’s not quite sure.

Kyungsoo remembers the guy with glasses from their freshman orientation. Kim Jongdae was the name that he committed to memory with the face, and he evokes the memory of Jongdae saying that he was a computer science major. A photo of a guy plastered on the wall beside a painting portraying a modernized tale of Romeo and Juliet comes up to Kyungsoo’s mind, and he assumes that the shorter one is Kim Minseok, a prodigy majoring in art.

All the other guys laugh at Jongdae’s statement, and with every second the laughs get prolonged, Baekhyun’s face turns shades darker. Kyungsoo finds this quite adorable, which in turn disturbs him in his sleep that night.

 

√

Kyungsoo is surprised to hear his parents’ approval of him moving in to share an apartment with Jongin. “You aren’t even going to complain? Or ask me questions or restrain me from going?”

“No, why would we?” His father laughs, low and rich despite his age. Kyungsoo doesn’t say he likes hearing his parents’ laughter because they might get conscious and not laugh at all, but it’s there, underlying in the shy smile he answers them with.

“You’re old enough to decide, dear. And besides, you’ve been best friends with Jongin for a long time now, and I know he could be trusted.” His mom chimes in, the perfect model of a supportive mother. She wasn’t as doting as Kyungsoo would’ve wanted her to be, guiding him in every step of the way, but it was okay because even though she’s not always physically present, he still knows she’s a step behind him to help him get back on track whenever he strays off. And it’s okay. Because sometimes, okay is enough.

“I doubt you’ll even make a mess out of things there.” His father agrees.

Kyungsoo packs his belongings, realizing that he wasn’t a cat cooped up in a bird cage after all—someone who doesn’t belong in a prison that he grew up to live in—that he was free to choose what he would do, if only he said something.

√

From the three times that they’ve watched films for their Communications class, Kyungsoo has observed a strange habit of Baekhyun. She cries when the movie ends sadly, cursing the directors and the writers to go to hell for making the audience feel bad, and yet she’ll also cry after watching a movie with a happy ending, saying that it’s too sappy and unrealistic. She never follows the predictions that Kyungsoo has set, and he doesn’t understand her the least bit.  
But he wants to, though.

√

Baekhyun finds the wide-eyed Statistics major that’s sitting beside her during Communications class weird, always observing her from the corner of his eye and scribbling down notes in a leather-bound refillable notebook that probably costs as much as her newest phone.

She doesn’t deny that she finds him cute though, but that’s something she’d rather not share with anyone. Especially not Jongdae.

Do Kyungsoo might not be the tall prince in shining armor riding a white steed that Baekhyun had been expecting, but he has the potential to be one.

√

Baekhyun gathers up three tome-like Psychology books and places them in the crook of her arms, careful not to drop them. She curses their Communications professor for being such a cold-hearted bitch, sending off students to the library to go write Concept Papers when she hasn’t even discussed the basics, like what the paper was supposed to contain, or even an outline to guide them in starting the paper.

She struggles with the books, heavy in her small hands, and berates herself for choosing Chanyeol as her partner just because they were friends, forgetting the fact that Chanyeol was the type of group mate to show up during planning meetings and contribute nothing but recycled air, and then disappear into thin air when actual work is starting, only to reappear later to ask how much he’ll have to pay to contribute for the project. Sometimes though, when he’s feeling particularly nice (or if Baekhyun keeps on bugging him till he gives up), he would also treat her to desserts and some tea. “He better be saving up all of his money to treat me to fine dining, because he’s never going to get away with this alive if he doesn’t.” She grumbles, precariously balancing the books cradled in her arms.

On her way to return the books in the shelves where they properly belong, she passes by Kyungsoo whose head was bent over the very same notebook he’s been writing on during class, too absorbed in his work to notice the sudden halt in Baekhyun’s pace and her stare that was gauging his attentiveness, willing him to look back up.

He was alone, and she briefly wonders whether they’re in the same situation, whether Kyungsoo also got ditched by his partner. But Baekhyun remembers that his partner was Zhang Yixing, the Chinese transferee who was oblivious to the world as he can be and sometimes says weird things as if he’s high as fuck, and Baekhyun knows that Yixing probably only forgot to come drop by the library because he’s too busy sleeping, his head resting on top of the wooden cover of the grand piano’s keys.

Much to her dismay, Kyungsoo doesn’t move an inch from his work, and Baekhyun walks away in disappointment, because she’s always wanted to talk to him ever since they met at the recreational park, but she never had any reason to strike up a conversation with him. And now that she’s formed a coherent greeting in her mind and a plan of action programmed in her brain, he doesn’ttake the initiative to look up. She doesn’t want to bother him with her great presence, anyway.

Perfect timing and all of that bravado from movies that they make people believe in be damned, Baekhyun was still hoping that by the time she was done returning the books (she even deliberately took her time to properly align the books in their shelves), she’d see Kyungsoo looking back at her with at least a small smile of recognition.  
But then again, he doesn’t, and Baekhyun leaves the library with an indignant huff. The librarian who greets her by the door wonders what’s wrong with her when she returns her greeting, because never did Byun Baekhyun once greet her without a smile (even though it seems forced) on her face.

Baekhyun was wrong in her assumptions though, for Kyungsoo had been observing her movements from his peripheral vision. He stops from his frenzied writing, taking out a sheet of cut-out scented paper safely tucked between the notebook’s pages.

He writes, not needing to look at books for reference anymore, because he knows every number by heart already. He has ever since he was thirteen.

√

“Since when did I turn into a decoder at your disposal?” Jongdae scoffs at Baekhyun, clearly not enjoying the idea of being his most unlikely acquaintance’s personal computer. “My talent couldn’t be acquired for a cheap price, and I demand a pay raise!” he mumbles, but he still writes forward slashes in-between the numbers and letters below them, albeit begrudgingly. “You haven’t even paid me for that previous message you let me decode.”

Baekhyun rolls her eyes at the desperate case that is her cousin’s boyfriend, and shoves Minseok toward him. “Friendly reminder that my cousin’s here and he’d be nice enough to pay off my debts for me. So you can go grab his ball sacks anytime you want, for all I care.”

Jongdae flushes at Baekhyun’s statement, but decides it’s best to just continue what he’s doing and not risk giving out an intermittent answer. Minseok’s cheeks are painted in permanent blushes at what Baekhyun had the nerve to outright propose, but he swats her hand away. “Did you just sell me off just so you could get your messages decoded?”  
She tilts her head to the side, giving it some thought. “Now selling would be a bad term, because of course selling you off would be a criminal offense. I couldn’t risk that. It’s more of like giving him consent because I know you and your old man beliefs and at this rate, you’re gonna die a vir—“ Minseok covers her mouth with his right hand, his left arm slung across her neck.“Ahahahaha, this cousin of mine is so funny, aren’t you? You’re such a blabber mouth—aggh!”

He releases her from his grip and wipes his hand on his pants, expression clearly disgusted. “Did you just lick my hand?”

Baekhyun runs a hand through her tousled hair, fixing her locks. “My bad. I should’ve spat on it instead, shouldn’t I?”

“You’re gross.”

“I know you love me.” She blows him a taunting kiss. A paper is being shoved in her face the next moment, and she pulls the note away from Jongdae’s hands, adjusting her eyes to the distance of the words swimming in her vision, red ink against black clouding her mind, blots of blue dotting her view. She covers her mouth with a hand as she almost screams, mostly from the uncontrollable wave of emotions running through her nerves right now.

_Roses are red,_  
Violets are blue.  
Your eyes are of a different hue,  
Yet nothing can be compared to you. 

It’s cheesy, so cheesy that she wants to puke. But she couldn’t help the feeling of giddiness erupting in her chest at those words.

_I like you, not just because you have a pretty face but because you’re different. But I can’t tell you that face-to-face, because I don’t have the courage._

_p.s. Talk to me sometimes, okay?_

She bites on her bottom lip, chewing at it thoughtfully. Because how could she talk to him when she doesn’t even know his name? When she doesn’t even have a face to associate with all of those love noes written in hardly decipherable numbers?

She admits however, that she felt all giddy and fluttery inside. But that’s something she keeps to herself, because she’d never tell Minseok or Jongdae something like that. They’ll just end up teasing her, anyway.

√

Baekhyun scrunches her nose. _Hasn’t he had enough of math and numbers to last him an entire lifetime?_ Kyungsoo is there in his previous spot at the library again, vigor still the same from when he was writing the last time. Various math and statistics books were piled on top of one another on his right side, a computer science book on his left. She briefly wonders if the Concept Paper he’s working on with Yixing has something to do with ‘numbers being the most fundamental part of our lives’, but decides not to dwell on it further. “Must be a nerd thing.” She mumbles as she stands up, picking up the references she used and gathering them into a pile.

√

If Baekhyun is excited with the prospect of someone leaving her love notes, she doesn’t say it. Not even to Chanyeol. But she clearly does enjoy seeing the grossed-out expression on Jongdae’s face whenever he’s forced to translate numbers into cheesy lines.

Minseok doesn’t say anything about the fact that this is the happiest he has seen his cousin ever be.

√

She corners him the fifth—maybe sixth—time she sees him in the library, backpack slung over one shoulder and a look of discomfort in his features. “Hi! You’re Jongin’s friend, aren’t you?” Kyungsoo almost jumps in surprise, and Baekhyun isn’t sure why because she’s made sure that she’s lowered her voice. And she’s _the_ Byun Baekhyun after all—she never goes unnoticed.

“Uh… Uhm… Yeah. Yeah that’s me. Kyungsoo.” He rubs at the back of his head, looking at anywhere but her. _Is something wrong with his eyes? Or is he just uncomfortable around me?_

“Nice to meet you. Again, I mean,” she smiles at him, and in Kyungsoo’s eyes, the library suddenly lights up, the dim glow of the fluorescent bulbs brightening to that of a higher voltage’s. _And god said, let there be light._ “I’m Baekhyun. We’re classmates in Comm class, remember?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t nod in affirmation, even if the fact was so painfully obvious and that Baekhyun was only using it as an excuse to talk to him. He just stares at her, and she almost squirms away from under his brazen gaze. “You remind me of the way the ground smells like after the rain.” He blushes furiously, and before Baekhyun could even ask him if that was supposed to serve as a compliment or an insult, he scurries off, textbooks in hand and backpack bobbing up and down.

Baekhyun stares after his retreating figure, a soldier forced to back out of a war he hasn’t prepared for yet. _The hell did he even mean by that._

√

“Hey Baekkie,” Chanyeol pokes Baekhyun’s cheek, and she gives him an irritated look. “I bet that guy likes you.” He points to the guy walking towards them, and Baekhyun slaps his hand away before Kyungsoo notices her friend pointing at him.“Leave him alone, Yeol. He’s not supposed to be the type who would get your antics. He’s a genius.”

Chanyeol narrows his eyes into slits. “Yeah…” All of a sudden, he’s standing in front of Kyungsoo, blocking the shorter guy’s route. He drops his head low to meet his victim’s eyes. “Hi there! You must be Kyungsoo. I’m Park Chanyeol!” If Kyungsoo was bothered by the sudden outburst of energy from the man standing in front of him that was a complete stranger until only a few seconds ago, it’s evident on his face.

Reluctantly, he takes Chanyeol’s hand and grips it lightly, shaking it uneasily. He might have been expecting some sort of ulterior motive from Chanyeol.

“Listen, we have this thing going on for our paper, and I’d like to ask you a few things? If that’s okay with you, I mean.” Chanyeol blabbers. Kyungsoo shoulders the strap of his bag, a look of unease spreading all over his face. But Baekhyun hasn’t expected him to say yes.

“Great!” Chanyeol beams widely at the progress of his plan. He even takes out a small notebook from his bag that reminds Baekhyun of Blues Clues, and a pen to come with it just to cover up his real intentions. “Now, basic information first: name, course, age?”

“Do Kyungsoo. BS Statistics. 18.” He answers directly, not being one to beat around the bush with ostentatious words and grand gestures. Chanyeol takes down notes anyway, even though he has already known that beforehand to cover up for his scheme.

“What are the things you like the most?”

“I like… reading books. And…” Baekhyun likes to think that Kyungsoo glanced at her, if not forjust a brief moment. But she pushes the thought away, because maybe her mind is playing tricks on her, making her see what she actually wants to see. “Petrichor.” He finishes, and Chanyeol wonders where the hell Kyungsoo got that word from. He continues asking some questions taken from a typical copy of a slum book anyway, like favorites and hobbies, but realizing that he’s getting nowhere with Kyungsoo, he abandons the case with a non-gratifying “thank you” and a hasty retreat.  
Baekhyun watches Kyungsoo walk past her. The boy’s got character that even Chanyeol gave up on him. She’d have to give him credit for that, shouldn’t she?

“Man, he really is boring, huh? I mean, who the hell even answers like this?” Chanyeol flips through the notes he took, shaking his head in disappointment. “He’s too much of a genius. And what the hell is a petrichor?”  
Baekhyun shrugs and takes out her phone to consult the internet what the definition of the unfamiliar word was. Her eyes quickly scan the search results, and she clicks at the first link that surfaces.  
She smiles at her phone, remembering something dumb that Kyungsoo had said before running off the previous day at the library. “Nah, I think he’s… interesting.”

√

“I just did the dumbest thing ever!” Kyungsoo cries the minute he enters the apartment, hands clawing at his face in embarrassment. Even though he was declared a genius at the age of three, he was still a teenager, with emotions and all that shit that comes with it. He just doesn’t know how to handle it pretty well. Especially when he’s in public places. And most especially when he’s in front of her.

If he’s a character in a program, he’d say it was as if a line was mistakenly added to his pre-programmed set of ‘emotions to feel’. Or maybe a bug got in and caused a glitch?

He is greeted by two aggressively hormonal teenage boys pressed up against each other, lips languidly exploring, hands gripping backs and necks, marking territories, ignoring his presence even when he slams the door shut. Kyungsoo easily distinguishes Jongin from the two simply from the color of his hair, and it wouldn’t take a genius to remember Oh Sehun, the boy with the coffee-colored hair and facial expression as devoid of emotion as much as his legs are devoid of hair.

“Oh dear god Jongin, what kind of a friend are you to choose this moment to go play hickey games with your boyfriend.” He pulls at his cheeks in exasperation, but the sound of Sehun’s moans are louder than his internal screams of death. “Could you quit that? I am in the middle of a dilemma here.”

But the kisses progress even further; going deeper and rougher every second. Kyungsoo is left dumbly standing by the door going unnoticed. He decides to interrupt them by standing beside them, clearing his throat to relieve the tension coming from every drop of saliva shared between the two. “Guys. Guys please stop making out in front of me,” Jongin could only groan in response, but even that is muffled behind Sehun’s lips.

“I have a problem here guys, you can’t just ditch me to satisfy your sudden thirst for each other’s lips,” Kyungsoo waves both of his hands in front of him, but the two seem to be so caught up in their act, intent on ignoring him.“Guys I’m in the middle of a crisis here can you stop eating each other’s faces and help me first. Guys. GUYS.”  
Jongin swats him away, too busy probing his tongue into Sehun’s mouth to even tell the older boy to go away.  
Kyungsoo sticks his nose high up in the air and marches away up the stairs, into his room, muttering, “And later you’ll come running to me, asking me to fix up your little boyfriend because you accidentally shoved your dick into the wrong hole. But nope, I give up. I leave you to your own devices, Kim Jongin.”

√

“Look at Luhan. Just look at that person. He can’t be trusted! He’s always looking at you as if he’s going to either eat you up or sell your first-borns to the richest couple he could find.” Jongdae grits his teeth together, shoving the food into his mouth forcefully.

Minseok holds his boyfriend’s wrist to stop him from stabbing his teeth with chopsticks. Or maybe it was a demo for when he shoves up those same chopsticks into Luhan’s throat later. “Jongdae, stop that. He’s not even doing anything.”

“Yes he is!” Jongdae squawks and half of the cafeteria turns to give them odd looks. Jongdae mutters an apology, and at least got the sense to lower his voice. “He’s sucking the life force out of you just by staring.”

“Stop over-exaggerating, Jongdae. You know it’s you who sucks out Minseok-oppa’s soul and not the exchange student. You kiss like a dementor.” Baekhyun interrupts their tirade, taking a sip of her iced tea.

“I. am. most. certainly. not. a. dementor.” Jongdae seems to be quite affected, when Baekhyun wasn’t the most perceptive on at that matter since she hasn’t even seen them peck at each other’s lips. Not even once. But maybe it was true because Jongdae was getting so riled up. Either that or he’s just really pissed at Minseok getting more and more fan boys as the year progresses.

Baekhyun opens her mouth to give another taunt, but then Yixing passes by, the food tray he’s carrying only containing a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. He looks lost, but his face lights up when Baekhyun calls his attention. “Ah, Baekhyun! Is there anything you need?”

“Nothing much, really. I just wanted to know how much progress you’ve been getting on that paper of yours?” When Yixing gives her a blank look, clearly not remembering anything about any papers due within the week, she explains further. “You know, the Concept Paper. The project due this week? For Communications class?” When Yixing still looks confused, she adds, “The paper you’re working on with Kyungsoo.”

“Oh, _that_ paper!” Yixing snaps his fingers together, as if to say, _Oh silly me, how could I forget that?_

“Yes, that paper. So are you done? Or are you still making some corrections?”

“Nah, we’ve already finished right on the day the professor announced the project, so no need to worry about us.” Baekhyun looks at him confusedly, because if they’re already done working on their paper, then why is Kyungsoo still researching in the library? For assignments? Intellectual benefit? Somehow it sounds wrong to Baekhyun’s ears. Or maybe it’s because she’s too preoccupied with the character she has associated him with that it seems unlikely.

√

“Well this is kinda… New.” Jongdae frowns at the mixture of numbers and letters crammed up in the paper. “This is binary.”

“And?” Baekhyun inquires. “What difference does that make?”

“Well I haven’t memorized the sequences yet? I only know the basics. God Baekhyun,” Jongdae rubs a hand across his face to emphasize his point. “I am not a fucking robot, I don’t think numbers!”

“Keep quiet about the god thing, not everyone knows I’m holy,”Baekhyun holds up a finger in front of him and wags it. But then she frowns as she mulls over his statement. “But I thought you were smart.”

Jongdae fights the urge to strangle her then and there. “I know decimal, hexadecimal, octal and html. But I’m just starting out on binary! That doesn’t mean I’m a fucking idiot, it’s because every single characterin ASCII is equivalent to eight digits in binary!”

“Well that won’t help.” She frowns. Minseok pats both of them in the back reassuringly, and it dampens the sarcastic remark at the end of Jongdae’s tongue.

“Well, what if we head to the library? I think there’re books there that could help you with that problem.” He suggests. And it wouldn’t take a truce to be signed by the two to make them agree that it is, indeed, the best solution they have at the moment.

_20141293_

“That’s it. That’s what all of it means,” Baekhyun looks downright devastated upon reading the scribbles Jongdae wrote below the strings of 1s and 0s. “I might as well have watched dramas instead of going all the way here and helping you guys find the right book to decode all that stuff.”

“Yeah, and I might as well have been proceeding with my date with your cousin if you weren’t such a bitch.” Jongdae retorts and Minseok swats his arm. He grunts, rubbing the beaten area. “Surprise, it’s a student number. He’s probably already giving you the key to know who he really is. Use your common sense, Baekhyun.”

She stares at the numbers, trying to recall every first year student that she’s acquainted with. But she doesn’t need to go through every page in the directory to find out who she was exactly looking for, because the book lying open-faced on the table they occupy triggers a memory of a blushing face and rubber shoes squeaking as he scurries off in embarrassment.

√

The night Kyungsoo finishes up a self-driven project, he forces himself to stay calm and not fidget from the noises he’s been hearing from downstairs. But a single word away from the end of a sentence, he flinches from the sound of metal hitting the floor. He pushes his chair away from the table and stands up on wobbly feet. He glances at the clock on his desk before walking out. _2:36_ , it reads. He probably needs some coffee, anyway.

A mess of naked bodies tangled together by the kitchen counter greets him, and he groans, too tired to scream profanities. “I have never felt so corrupted my whole life.”

Both of them stop in their frenzied endeavor of such a “convenient” data-gathering technique of exploring each other’s bodies, desire and want stamped out by Kyungsoo’s sudden appearance by the doorway, hair disheveled and eyes surrounded by dark circles.

Sehun yelps and jumps off of the counter as Jongin grabs the nearest thing he could grab—neon orange-colored oven mittens—to cover his genitals. Kyungsoo throw aprons in their direction, and they both gladly accept it, covering up everything hanging loose at that moment with it. “Have some decency, it’s fucking 2:30 am.” Now he knows the reason behind Sehun’s frequent visits to their apartment, most of the time ending with Kyungsoo having to give up on watching t.v. because it’s just really awkward to have your best friend and his boyfriend making out beside you on the couch while you watch a kid’s show starring a blue penguin in goggles.

 _I just hope they didn’t fuck on the couch though,_ he thinks, as he proceeds to turn on the coffee maker just a few inches away from where the two stand horror-struck. _I like sitting on that one._ “Fuck you both, I do not have time for this. I’ll deal with you in the morning.”Witnessing your friend doing miracles in the kitchen with their stark naked bodies left exposed was definitely not a sight that Kyungsoo was hoping to see, but as of the moment, nothing could stop him from making coffee. Nothing could get in the way with his love for bitter mocha at 2:30 am. Well at least, at the moment.

And Jongin laughs, because even though he knows this wasn’t something of a memory you just bring up in the middle of lunch and laugh about, he finds it funny that Kyungsoo still chooses to make coffee even though he walked in on private business. The normalcy of Kyungsoo’s actions should be alarming, but he counts that it’s maybe because the older guy is probably half-asleep, half-tired, and an additional bonus description one-fourth dead. “Don’t worry hyung, we can manage another one. Sehunnie wouldn’t mind.” He teases. “Would you?” Sehun just blushes a bright shade of scarlet and purses his lips, too embarrassed to answer.

“Now I see why I had doubts of agreeing to stay with you.” Kyungsoo mumbles, putting a tablespoon of coffee powder into the coffee maker. “I probably need to sort out my shit from now on.”

 

Just as expected, however, reality sinks in on him the next day. Kyungsoo gives them a lecture,telling them toat least try to be discreet when having sex when you know someone else is in the house. “I have eaten on top of that counter. It used to be so clean and deprived of such dirt. Fuck you both.”

Jongin shrugs. “Hey, at least we wiped off the butt marks this time.”

Kyungsoo fights the urge to gag on his cereals. So all this time he thought those were just from the vapor sticking to pot lids, when in fact it was the mark of someone’s naked butt. Someone who is sitting right in front of him on the table. What an awkward way to start a day.

He mentally adds that he needs to buy a new disinfectant. Preferably one that doesn’t leave butt marks.

√

Kyungsoo shouldn’t have been writing while sitting on a bleacher in the midst of a basketball practice. Or maybe, he shouldn’t have accepted Jongin’s invitation to watch the basketball team’s practice before the big game the next day when he clearly doesn’t even have any inclinations towards sports. But he does anyway, because he is such a sucker for Jongin’s aegyo.

The reason why he thinks that is because a ball hits him right in the head and he passes out in a flurry of stars in black background. Another reason is that at that exact moment, Baekhyun chooses to take a shortcut and walk by the basketball court to get to the gym lockers, having had forgotten to get her shirt for P.E. class in the shower room.  
Baekhyun notices the flock of varsity players surrounding something—or someone—by the bleachers, all panicking. “Dude, you killed him!” one of them says. “You killed my best friend man, how could you?!” Curiosity got the best of her as usual, and Baekhyun goes in the fray to check who killed who. She squeezes past them, and ends up staring down at Kyungsoo’s unconscious form, eyelids casting a shadow over the hollow below his eyes.

“I’ll accompany him to the infirmary. You,” she points to a guy with multiple ear piercings and a fierce look on his face. “M-me?” his severe expression shifts into that of a scared kid’s and Baekhyun almost laughs at the sudden shift in his aura. “Yes, you. I need you to help me carry this guy. Pronto.”

The guy doesn’t hesitate to give them a hand. Not because of Baekhyun’s charms, but probably because of her tone of voice. Jongin comes to their aid anyway, because just as Kyungsoo said, this was probably his fault.

 

 

She picks up the notebook she pried off from Kyungsoo’s grip from the table, remembering that it’s the notebook she usually sees him lugging around. She gives him a cursory glance before settling down on the chair beside his assigned bed, checking to see if he’s awake already. The steady rise and fall of Kyungsoo’s chest assures him that he’s still alive, his lack of other physical response an assurance that he’s still not awake yet.

Curious, she flips it open and thumbs through the pages. Several notes are cramped against the margins of the pages, and she stops to read the words written in all capital letters.

**THE STATISTICAL PROBABILITY OF FALLING IN LOVE**

Intrigued as she is, she flips through more of the pages and ends up with the latest entry, slightly crumpled. She guesses that Kyungsoo was writing this part out when the ball suddenly hit him, the impact sending him toppling forward.

 **Summary, Conclusions and Recommendations** was what was written on top of it, underlined thrice.

_I therefore conclude that there is 100% chance of—_

She doesn’t get to read the whole part of what was written there because Kyungsoo wakes up.

“What—Baekhyun?” his round eyes widen to the size of saucers when he sees what she’s holding. “I—I can explain I—“  
Baekhyun holds up a hand to silence him. “No need to. It’s okay, I didn’t like you either anyway.”

Kyungsoo’s jaw falls slack. “Huh?” he has many questions to ask, but he settles for a single word that could portray his befuddled state. Because he’s sure he’s gotten a hundred percent probability, from all those types of tests he’s done.

“You were in it for the sake of experiment. I was in it because I was curious as to what it would have felt like to have someone like you,” she shrugs, and Kyungsoo knows that she should be angry. Maybe deep inside she is, but if she’s faking it, he should definitely give her credit because she has the most convincing statements he could ever hear. She stands up from her seat beside his bed and smoothens the pleats of her blue skirt. “So it’s all fair game now, right?”

She’s out the door before he gets to make up his mind and think of an answer. _No, it isn’t. Can’t you see?_  
He starts furiously flipping through the pages, checking to see which graph he got wrong or which numbers in the tables he got jumbled up. He looks through every formula and mentally calculates the results, wondering where he got it wrong. Reading through the conclusion, an idea comes to him, and he realizes that it might have been his fatal error.

He reads through the lines again and realizes that he had been very wrong from the start. Because instead of calculating the probability of Byun Baekhyun falling helplessly in love with a complete stranger, he recorded the telltale signs from his own perspective.

He scratches out Baekhyun’s name from the first page under the “subject” heading, and changed it with the correct name.

_Do Kyungsoo._

√

Baekhyun avoids him like the plague, sure to steer clear of his path at any cost. She knows she hadn’t been fair with how she’s been treating him either, but she thinks it would be best if they didn’t see each other for a while, because her little trial just might have backfired on her. Still, she thanks the heavens because she really hasn’t fallen for him yet, but it was close enough because she was almost at the brink.

If she’s serious about not having feelings for Kyungsoo and trying it out just to satisfy her curiosity, it doesn’t show, for her actions contradict what she says.

Kyungsoo thinks he really might have a shot at this, after all.

√

“This feels really stuffy,” Kyungsoo pulls at the collar of the blue dress shirt Jongin specifically bought him as a birthday gift two years ago for occasions like this (“I knew you’d be able to use that! I knew that my efforts wouldn’t all go to waste!” he proudly said when Kyungsoo came up to him, asking for help) Are you sure this is okay?”  
“Of course it is! Look how manly you look.” Jongin pats him on the shoulder.

Kyungsoo nervously bites on his lower lip. He feels someone tugging at his sleeve, and he looks up to see Sehun smiling at him mischievously. “Come on lover boy, your princess is waiting for you.”

He smacks his best friend’s boyfriend on the back of the head before briskly walking to the spot where Baekhyun is sitting on a bench placed below a tree. She is holding a piece of paper in her hands, eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as she diligently studies everything on print, and the light hits it right so he could perfectly see through the back of the paper a g-clef occupying five lines at the top of the paper and notes following it. She must be learning a new song.

He makes his way across the park where he first met her, eyes only trained on her. He clears his throat when he’s finally standing in front of her, and she almost jumps in surprise at the sudden intrusion of her peace. Recognition dawns upon her face when she looks up at him, but she doesn’t flinch or frown or run away like Kyungsoo was expecting her to. This was definitely a sign of improvement. “Yes?”she asks, a curious smile tugging at her lips. The light is caught in her eyes, and Kyungsoo would have to agree that indeed, he didn’t make a mistake in his calculations.

“First of all, I would like to apologize for what I did. It wasn’t right of me to use you for an experiment without your knowledge.” Kyungsoo’s chest feels lighter after saying that, feeling as if a heavy burden was taken off of his shoulders. He thought it would be difficult to ask for forgiveness, but it was actually more difficult to not do anything and just let the guilt eat you up from the inside.

“You really should. It was unethical.” She answers, but there is neither ice nor venom in her tone but an amused smile, and even though she doesn’t say it, there’s that underlying answer of, “I forgive you.”

“Second, I really have no idea how to do this, but I really like you and I would like to ask you out on a date.” He reaches to his back pocket, where the stem of a thornless red rose is jammed into, and he procures it and hands it over to her. “Lastly, I’m serious about this. This isn’t a game, or an experiment anymore. This time, it’s for real.”  
Baekhyun smiles, a radiant glow that easily fills up everything and colors the world in bright rainbow splashes. Kyungsoo likes to think that this time her smile was meant for him.

She takes the rose and smells it, the scent of innocence wafting through her nose as the confession of first love hangs in the air between her and Kyungsoo. He doesn’t know yet that she had that smile reserved for him the moment she saw his indecision when she first asked him a question, the very same question that fueled him to conduct the research. But even Baekhyun doesn’t know it yet.  



End file.
